


The Pitter Patter of Tiny Blacksmith Feet

by CurufinweAtarinke



Series: Curufin vs the World [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, curvo is a good dad and tyelpe loves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 14:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18235838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurufinweAtarinke/pseuds/CurufinweAtarinke
Summary: Curufin’s having a baby. His wife might have technically helped, but Curufin’s gonna get the credit.





	The Pitter Patter of Tiny Blacksmith Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Costamë is my version of Curufin’s wife. Please read “Speed Dating For Scientists” first as this is a direct sequel.

The room is quiet from the corridor. Tyelkormo leans against the wall and strains to hear what is going on inside, but he cannot make anything out. Next to him, Carnistir is sitting calmly on the floor, finishing off his baby blanket.

Father is pacing up and down the corridor restlessly. While he has had many children of his own, of course, he clearly still fears birth complications affecting his son.

Of course, thinks Tyelkormo, Curufinwë and Costamë’s relationship and Costamë’s planned relationship with their child is very different to a regular family. As if to illustrate this, Costamë’s family is not even here. When asked about her parents or siblings, she has always been very evasive.

On Carnistir’s other side, Maitimo takes the opportunity to stretch out his legs, tripping Father on his pacing return. It is only the quick reactions of both Ambarussa that prevent an accident.

“I’m so sorry, Father!” says Maitimo. _”Please_ come and sit down, you’ll wear a hole in the floor.”

It’s the lack of Mother’s presence that is taking its toll, Tyelkormo thinks. The latest row between his parents has led to them living in separate houses. He knows that she would love to be here for the birth of her first grandchild, but Curufinwë has very emphatically taken a side in the matter.

Father huffs and plops down next to Maitimo, after Macalaurë scoots up to make room for him between them, resting his head on Maitimo’s shoulder.

The door handle rattles and the midwife emerges, causing Father to immediately shoot to his feet again.

“You can come in now,” she says. Under her breath, Tyelkormo hears her mutter, “I’ve never had parents who insist on so many measurements before. Even head size!” and he cannot help but smile.

All of them crowd in to see Curufinwë holding the bundle, while Costamë frantically scribbles notes down, apparently completely unconcerned.

Curufinwë is practically glowing. “Come and look! It’s a boy!” he says, in a low voice. Father is immediately by his side, and Tyelkormo elbows his way past Macalaurë to get a prime position too. (He’ll pay for it later, but it’ll be worth it).

The little face swaddled in blankets is red, and wrinkly. Tyelkormo has seen enough baby brothers born to know that if you’ve seen one newborn baby, you’ve seen them all, but he coos over it all the same. He’ll reserve judgement until the kid has teeth.

Father and Curufinwë have the same reverent expression, and Tyelkormo is struck by their uncanny resemblance. They always look alike, of course, but at this moment they could almost be twins.

Pityo pipes up from the back, where he’s stood on tiptoes to see over Maitimo’s shoulder. “What’s his name?” he asks.

“Curufinwë, for his father-name-“ says Curufinwë.

Tyelkormo cannot help it, and snorts in laughter. _Of course._ Curufinwë’s glare has nowhere near its usual power, he’s clearly too happy.

“-and Tyelperinquar for his mother-name,” Curufinwë finishes.

“Lovely names,” says Father, gently stroking the newly named Curufinwë Tyelperinquar’s cheek.

“It’s a very big name for a very small baby,” says Kanafinwë Macalaurë, with no room to talk.

“He’ll grow into it,” says Curufinwë.

The baby is passed around all of them, and duly cooed over by each new uncle, before Costamë finally looks up from her notes.

“Alright, out,” she says. She holds her arms out for Tyelperinquar. “He needs to have some maternal bonding with me or it will impede his emotional development, according to a study I read last month.”

The expression on Father’s face is a picture, and recognising the signs of a potential eruption, Tyelkormo and his brothers usher him out before he can explode.

Curufinwë comes with them, closing the door behind him. “I’m going to take him to see Grandfather next week,” he says. “Costamë says she will live with me until he’s weaned for convenience, but after that she just wants to see him once a week.”

Tyelkormo knows better than to ask when Mother will be shown Tyelperinquar.

Father clears his throat. “I’m sure that your grandfather would love to see his first great-grandson. I’m proud of you.”

Curufinwë promptly bursts into tears, but they’re tears of joy so Tyelkormo thinks it’s probably alright.

**Author's Note:**

> it’s been forever since i wrote anything so this is me trying to get back into the game


End file.
